My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy) (12 page)

Chapter 13

Parting is Not Such Sweet Sorrow

“I cannot stay in here any longer,” Sarah whispered, her lips caressing the side of Gabriel’s chest as she spoke. She had already been out of sight of the inn’s staff for more than two hours, a situation that might have someone sending out a search party. If she was found with the earl, who knew what would happen? She would probably lose her position. She would most definitely gain a reputation as a lightskirt, a reputation she had carefully and completely overcome since her last time with the Earl of Trenton. “I have probably already been missed,” she added, mostly to herself. She could only hope Margery was seeing to little Gabe.

Dozing and barely aware of where he was, Gabriel murmured something unintelligible and then used the arm her head was resting on to pull her closer. “Can you come back tonight?” he finally asked, kissing the top of her head. “I rather enjoy your lessons.”

Sarah allowed a grin before stretching her legs and her one free arm. She used the other to prop up her head as she regarded the earl. “I ... I suppose,” she replied, using her free hand to rake her fingernails through his blond curls. “I know you don’t like it when I do this, but I find I cannot help myself,” she whispered playfully.

Gabriel opened one eye, a smirk appearing on his face. “Now, there you are quite mistaken, my lady,” he replied. How many times in the past year had he imagined her raking her fingers through his hair, lightly scraping his scalp so that shivers of pleasure danced over his head? Seeing her like this, the heel of her hand held against her forehead, her hair in a tumble of golden blonde waves around her shoulders, a lock of hair nearly covering one of her eyes, made him wish he could wake up to the sight of her every morning.

Sarah frowned. “You like it?”

His grin broadening, Gabriel nodded. “I dream of you doing it,” he murmured happily, his eyes closing again.

Sarah stared at the man in whose bed she once again found herself, stunned by his words. He had been appreciative the last time, paying handsomely her for her time and the tumble. Nothing had been said this time about compensation, and she found herself hoping he wouldn’t bring it up. After more than a year of celibacy, she didn’t want to be paid for what she enjoyed doing with the man. There could be no future for them, although she had at one time hoped he might ask her to take on the role of his mistress, at least until he was married.

Would she do so now, should he ask? He was pleasant to be with, and seemed to enjoy their time together as much as she did. He’d been a quick study when it came to kissing; the man was much improved over their first evening together. And he was handsome – too handsome for his own good, she considered. But would she agree to be his mistress?

I would
, she decided.

Gabriel, his eyes still closed, wondered how to bring up the topic of his future. He needed a wife, and although he should have been back in London searching for one, the idea of doing so was so abhorrent, he couldn’t abide thinking of it. Especially when he had a candidate in Sarah. True, she wasn’t a peer of the realm, but at this point, he didn’t want one. As to whether or not she could execute the duties of a countess, he considered she was already doing similar duties as the manager of the inn. Of course she would make the perfect hostess for dinner parties and their guests, she could manage his households much like she managed the inn, and best of all, she was the perfect bed mate.
A countess, a mistress and a wife, all in one,
he thought with a smile.

“I have sworn off mistresses,” he murmured quietly, his eyes still closed.

Sarah stared at the earl for several moments, wondering if he could read her thoughts. A sense of disappointment settled over her, as if he had dismissed her with his simple statement. “Oh,” she answered finally, suddenly fighting back tears. She chided herself for allowing an overwhelming sense of sadness to settle over her. “Well then,” she said, trying to control her breathing so she wouldn’t let out a sob. “On that note, I will take my leave of you,” she said in a whisper.

Sliding off the bed, she quickly donned her chemise. Pulling up her corset over her hips, she was thankful she’d worn the one that tied in the front. She had the round gown over her head and settled onto her shoulders and over her hips in one quick move. Stepping into her slippers, she took one last look at the sleeping form of Gabriel Wellingham before unlocking the door and taking her leave of his room.

Once she was in the hallway, Sarah found she couldn’t control the tears. She made her way to her own room, intent on holding her son and allowing her tears to flow freely.

How could I have been such a fool? she wondered, wiping her tears on one sleeve as she reached for the door knob.

“He’s sound asleep,” Margery whispered as she entered the room.

Sarah had to stifle a gasp. She hadn’t been expecting the barmaid to be in her bedchamber. And, for a moment, she thought the girl referred to the earl.

“Has been for over an hour,” the barmaid added as she put down a set of knitting needles. “It’s time I get dressed for the supper crowd. Angus McElliott’s birthday is tomorrow, and I have reason to believe the party will start a bit early,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh?” Sarah answered as she checked on Gabe. The babe was breathing softly, his halo of blond curls surrounding his cherubic face. “I hope our earl won’t mind the noise too much,” she commented as she turned to find Margery staring at her. “What ... What is it?” she asked, her brows furrowing.

“He fancies you,” Margery said with a grin.

Sarah stared back at the barmaid for perhaps a moment too long. “And what makes you say that?” She could feel her face flush with color.
Damnation!
Did any of the other inn’s employees know she’s been with the earl?

“I won’t tell a soul,” Margery claimed with a shake of her head. “I don’t think anyone else knows, but ... I could just see it in his eyes ... the way that he looked at you. He’s ... he’s fond of you.”

Feigning embarrassment, which wasn’t difficult given the situation, Sarah waved a hand at the barmaid. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. He’s an earl. I ... I run an inn. I used to be a barmaid ...”

“You’re sweet on him.”

Sarah froze, one hand pressed against her midriff.
She knows,
she thought, a bit panicked at the thought that the odd relationship she shared with Gabriel Wellingham was apparent to a barmaid. “He is a rather handsome man,” Sarah finally admitted. “Hard not to be ... attracted to the man,” she added lamely.

“True,” Margery agreed as she made her way to the door. “Do give him some consideration, Miss Cumberbatch. If you remember, I occasionally read those gossip rags from London. The Earl of Trenton didn’t do well with those blue bloods last Season. I hear the man is in desperate need of a wife.” With that, Margery took her leave of Sarah’s room.

Chapter 14

Clothes Make the Man

Wallings, Viscount Cheltenham’s valet since Julia’s brother was out of short pants, regarded Alistair with a raised brow. “I do believe I can find some suitable clothes,” he murmured, stepping back and regarding Alistair from the side. “And, if not, I can have Holdwalter pay a call. We can have something custom made in a day or two.”

Alistair cocked an eyebrow, certain the valet was baiting him. “Perhaps that would be best, seeing as how Lord Cheltenham is shorter than I am. I will, of course, pay for the clothes myself,” he stated as he regarded his reflection in the cheval mirror.

The two had been in Charles Mayfield’s bedchamber for the past half-hour, Wallings providing a steady stream of waistcoats and topcoats for Alistair to try on. The waistcoats, although a bit on the flamboyant side, fit well enough, but the topcoats proved a problem in that the shoulders were far too narrow and the sleeves were too short.

At the comment about paying for the tailor’s services, Wallings’ allowed an expression of surprise. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I rather doubt you can afford Mr. Holdwalter’s fees given your position,” he said,
sotto voce
.

Pulling on a pair of breeches, Alistair groaned as it became evident he would be unable to secure the buttons on the fly. Although the superfine wool had some give, it didn’t give enough. Not only would every muscle in his thighs show in relief, so would everything in his nether regions. “I have a bit of blunt,” Alistair assured the valet, quickly divesting himself of the formal attire. And if it wasn’t enough, he might be able to ask Holdwalter’s son-in-law for a loan.

Edward Seward, apparently happily married for nearly two years now, had just returned to London from an extended Grand Tour with his bride, the former Anna Holdwalter. The two were currently on the hunt for an appropriate residence while staying with the Cunninghams in their terrace on Grosvenor Square.

“Very good, sir,” Wallings replied. He angled his head to one side and sighed. “That is all that Viscount Cheltenham has in his clothes press at the moment,” he said with a shrug.

Alistair turned to take in the neat pile of waistcoats and topcoats that lay on the bench at the end of the bed, a bit of panic settling over him. He’d have to pay a call on Seward just as soon as he had some free time, perhaps later that night, after the servants’ supper.

For the first time since he’d left Aimsley House, he found himself missing the services of a footman. “Holdwalter, it is, then,” Alistair murmured, wondering at the irony of borrowing money from the husband of the daughter of the tailor to pay the tailor.
Like robbing Peter to pay Paul
, he  thought without feeling any humor at the irony. “Thank you for your help in all this,” he said as he waved his hand over the discarded clothing.

Wallings nodded. “Of course. May I ask, sir, why you are in need of formal clothes? Perhaps if I knew the ... event, I could better dress you for the occasion.”

Alistair had to suppress a grin. He wondered how long it would be before the valet could no longer hide his curiosity. “Lady Mayfield’s ball,” he replied in a whisper. “I am not at liberty to explain the details, but it is imperative that I present myself as a gentleman. No one in attendance can know that I am truly a groom,” he whispered, leaning in as if he was concerned they might be overheard.

Wallings’ eyebrows lifted to a new high. “Are you ... crashing ... the ball?” he wondered, obviously distressed by the news a mere groom would attempt to attend a
ton
ball.

“Oh, no!” Alistair, replied quickly, his head shaking from side to side. “I have an invitation ... to be a guest,” he clarified when Wallings gave him another look of disbelief.

“Rather unusual circumstances then,” Wallings commented, his brows having descended to their normal location.

“Indeed,” Alistair agreed with a nod.

“I’ll see to the appointment, then,” Wallings said, moving to put away the discarded clothes.

“Thank you,” Alistair said. “Would you like me to help with those?” he wondered, suddenly embarrassed that he was the cause of a good deal of work for the valet.

“I can see to this,” Wallings said with a nod.

Feeling dismissed, Alistair made his way out of the room. He almost headed for the main hall staircase when he remembered his status in the household. Making a quick turn, he hurried to the servant stairs at the back of the house and made his way to the stables by way of the back garden.

Chapter 15

An Earl Wakes Up to Reality

Gabriel Trenton stretched and turn on his side, expecting to open his eyes to find Sarah staring back at him. Instead, he found himself staring at empty bedclothes and a goose feather that wiggled with his every breath. Lifting himself onto one elbow, he glanced around the room.
Damnation!
Where had she gone?

His sleep addled mind remembered her parting words.
I have probably already been missed
, she’d said.
Indeed, you are missed
, he thought lazily, enjoying the way his body felt after their afternoon lovemaking. He gave a thought to how he might entice her to return to his bed later that night. And stay in it so he could wake up next to her in the morning.

Finally rising, he realized the luncheon dishes had been cleared, but a pot of hot tea and a cup and saucer had been left in their place. Helping himself, he poured a cup and downed it one gulp. He dressed quickly and left the room, intent on taking a ride. At some point, he would have to find the inn’s manager before the supper crowd arrived. Once the locals started filling up the public room, there would be no chance to get Sarah by herself until late into the night.

Gabriel found Margery in the taproom, her hands in sudsy wash water and a collection of mugs sitting out on flannels. “Good afternoon,” he said by way of greeting.

Margery smiled, giving him a curtsy. “And to you, my lord. Would you like an ale?” she asked, holding up one of the newly washed mugs. “Or, were you looking for someone?” she wondered, one eye winking as if she was teasing him.

Shaking his head, the earl declined.
Had Sarah said something of their afternoon tryst?
he wondered. “Actually, I’d like to take a ride about Stretton,” he said. “Whom do I see about saddling my horse?”

The inn’s owner, John Bristow, came from the public room just as Gabriel made the query. “I’ll see to it right away, my lord,” he said with a bow.

Nodding, Gabriel took his leave of the taproom, glancing down the hall to where he knew Sarah’s office was located. Although he was tempted to pay her a quick visit, he thought better of it. He had already monopolized her time that afternoon, and given the amount of work there was to do to prepare a supper and rooms for the night, he dared not take more of her time.

He made his way out the front door of the inn and around to the side yard, admiring how much better the coaching inn looked compared to the days before he’d inherited the earldom. Back then, he had only stopped at the inn to have an ale and a tumble with a barmaid named Genevieve. Although she was pleasant enough, she was nothing like Sarah – not nearly as pretty and certainly not as beddable. He could barely remember what she looked like.

How time had changed him! He’d gone from a boy who lived in constant fear of his father to a young man at school and university who learned from other sons of the aristocracy that it was acceptable to be an arrogant ass. And now, now that he’d had a Season in London behind him and was about to start another, he’d come to realize that none of the trappings of an earldom meant a damn thing without someone to share them with. And arrogance was not a trait easily abided by those who worked on his – or his earldom’s – behalf. Far better to be a more humble man.

His mother still lived at Trenton Manor, a situation that would have to change once he took a wife. There was a dowager cottage on the grounds near Wolverhampton, and she would no doubt stay there until Gabriel was married and had heirs she could brag about at
ton
events. If she appeared in any London drawing rooms now, she would only be barraged with questions about her son’s apparent failures in Parliament and in the Marriage Mart.

“Your horse is ready, my lord,” Bobby, one of the stableboys, said as he led Jupiter toward the front of the yard.

“Thank you,” Gabriel said as he took the reins. He tossed the stableboy a coin. “If you would, let the innkeeper know I shall return. I did not see her on my way out,” he said as he mounted Jupiter.

Bobby nodded. “I will. She was probably just taking care of the baby,” he commented before giving the earl a quick bow and hurrying back to the stables.

Gabriel blinked. And blinked again as he watched the boy run off.

Baby?